


Breaking Hearts Has Never Looked So Cool (A Casual Affair)

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, But ryan is a sweetheart, Dare, Dating on a dare, First Kiss, Lies, M/M, New kid!Pete, Pete's friends are kind of assholes, Secrets and lies oh my, The rating might turn to mature later, They're all around seventeen, maybe smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gee isn't bullshitting you. There really is no telling what could happen if people see you at Starbucks with him."</p><p>Now he was going to have to get Patrick to change their plans, and even then... </p><p>He buries his head in his arms, letting out a long, shaky exhale. "Fuck..."</p><p>Dallon pats him on the back and offers him a fry.</p><p>==========</p><p>Put together a new high school, dares, some cool new friends who enjoy shipping people, a new kid named Pete who just wants to fit in, and a school weirdo named Patrick who just wishes he had more than two friends, and what do you get?</p><p>Chaos, lovesick teenagers, and some slightly soggy french fries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Tell That Mick He Just Made My List Of Things To Do Today (by Fall Out Boy) and Casual Affair (by P!ATD bc I'm too tired to type the entire band name but not a FOB song title apparently)
> 
> I'm not sure what happened. It wasn't there and then suddenly it was and my brain, being the control freak it is, forced me to write this. Because an exisistential crisis wasn't enough for one day, I'm afraid.

Pete takes a deep breath, fiddling with his backpack straps.

The guy who's been pointed out to him as Patrick is at his locker, muttering under his breath as he shoves notebooks into his backpack.

Currently, Pete's standing about ten feet down the hall, debating with himself whether or not he should really go through with this.  

Dallon wasn't lying; the kid is cute: short, with reddish-brown hair that flops over thick black hipster frames. He's wearing a band t-shirt, cardigan, and grey skinny jeans, complete with black Converse sneakers. A bit of an unorthodox look with the cardigan, but it suits him. He really is kind of...

Pete is jarred back to the present as someone bumps into him. "Sorry," the girl calls over her shoulder. "S'okay," Pete replies, realizing that he's been standing in the middle of the hallway for a full minute. Last period's been dismissed, so he doesn't have any classes to be late for.

Slipping back into his half-trance, Pete tries to remember what he's supposed to do.

 

"Pete!" Josh's voice carries over the din of the cafeteria.

It's lunch period, and Pete's sitting with his new friends.

Hooray. Friends.

"Mmf?" Pete mumbles through a mouthful of pizza. Josh rolls his eyes, and Gerard snickers. Ryan just scribbles on a piece of paper. Pete chews and swallows properly, then tries again. "Yeah?"

Josh rolls his eyes again. "You never pay attention. Did you hear us?"

Pete stares blankly. "About..."

From beside him, Dallon snorts. "You new kids. Never listen. About him." He jerks a thumb back over his shoulder, and Pete follows the gesture to a guy across the lunchroom sitting with two other people. They look like an outcast group; maybe the nerds or something.

"What about him?"

Gerard leans forward. "His name's Patrick. Patrick Stump. That one, with the red beanie, short brown hair, that's Tyler. And the other one, with the big forehead and the dark hair, is Brendon."

"Why do I need to know this?" Pete frowns, glancing nervously between his friends. "Well, first off, because we are trying to make sure you don't settle in with the worst possible crowd and thus be an outcast for eternity, and second, Patrick is a bit of a... weirdo." Ryan explains. "Really, all three of them are, but mostly him."

"You're only saying that because you like Brendon," Josh says in a sing-song voice. Ryan's face reddens, and his pen stops whipping back and forth. "I do _not_!"

 Gerard suddenly gets a very evil smile on his face. "Uh-oh, Gee is up to something!" Dallon squeals in mock terror.

"Yes, Weekes. Yes, I am."

Everyone stops to stare at him. The boy's grin gets even bigger, and he turns to Ryan.

"I dare you to ask Brendon Urie out."

A moment of shocked silence. Then all hell breaks loose.

Pete has no idea what's going on, just that all four of his friends are screaming, three at Ryan and Ryan at the three.

_"RYAN IS IN LOOOOOOOOOVE!"_

_"I AM NOT!"_

_"GEE IS A GENIUS!"_

_"FUCK NO!"_

_"THIS WAS THE BEST IDEA EVER!"_

_"FUCK FUCKING NO!"_

_"RYDEN IS REAL!"_

_"FUCK YOU ALL!"_

Pete's poor ears have had enough. Apparently he can handle his headphones blaring Danzig at full volume, but not four teenagers screaming all at once in his ears.

 _"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"_ he hollers, and to his surprise, they all clam up and sit back down.

There's a short silence, which Ryan soon breaks. "I'm not gonna do it. I won't."

Another silence, until Gerard's lips twist into another shit-eating grin.

"Then Pete can ask Patrick out."

All the blood drains from Pete's face as his friends turn to look at him. All of them have that same Gerard Way Grin now.

"I-I don't really--" he stutters. Josh cuts in. "But you are bi, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but--"

"So it's easy peasy!" Gerard claps his hands together. "Pumpkin pie, motherfucker."

In spite of himself, Pete laughs, but quickly becomes serious again. "I've never even met him! And besides, I thought you were trying to protect me from becoming a total social outcast?" he pleads. Dallon waves a hand dismissively. "Fuck that, Ryan was exaggerating. They're not the worst out there, though they're definitely in the top three. It won't be the end of the world. Besides," he drops his voice slightly, "Pat is kinda cute, huh?"

The sputtering is interrupted by Ryan. "Look, Wentz, you don't have to do it if you don't want to. No one at this table is actually gonna force you, no matter how much of an OTP you and Stump are to them." Pete blinks at his new friend, grateful that he had stepped in, yet slightly humiliated. Would they consider him a wimp or a coward or something if he didn't take the dare? Would they reject him, sneer at him, force him out of the group, just like the last times...

He couldn't risk it. He had to _belong_.

Pete sighed and forced a smirk. 

"Oh, don't worry, Ross. I'll do it."

 

An unfamiliar voice startles him out of his reverie. "Hi, um, can I help you?"

Pete blinks rapidly at the person now standing in front of him.

Patrick.

He's been staring at Patrick for the past three minutes now, and oh, apparently he's wandered up to him. His feet must have minds of their own. That, or these are magic combat boots. "Uh, um, well--" Pete sputters, heat rising rapidly in his tan cheeks. Not a good way to start this. He sighs, recollecting himself. "Um, yeah, hi, I'm Pete, Pete Wentz," he mumbles, mentally facepalming at his awkwardness.

Thankfully, Patrick doesn't seem to be judging him, just confused. "Hi, then, I'm Patrick. Patrick Stump," he says, holding out his pale hand. And wow, his voice is not what Pete expected. A lot deeper, for one thing, seeing as they're only seventeen or so, and that he's such a small guy. Though Pete's one to talk; he himself is only five-foot-six, and Patrick appears to be only a bit shorter than him.

Now that he's up close, he can see Patrick's eyes: the color of the ocean, bluish-green. God, they're beautiful...

_Nope. Don't think about that, Wentz. Not the time._

"Um, anyway, I'm kind of, uh, new here, and I was wondering, if, like, maybe you wanna go get Starbucks or something? I mean you seem really nice even though we haven't met before and um--" he cuts himself off, facepalming for real this time. "Dammit, sorry, I ramble."

Patrick laughs gently--a soft, sweet sound like music, goddammit--and shifts his textbooks in his arms. "S'okay, so do I. When were you thinking?" And oh, Patrick is flattered, blushing a little now, and god, it's so damn cute...

Pete uncovers his mouth, a little shocked. He was saying yes? "Oh, um, whenever works best for you."

Patrick whips out a pen and scrawls his number in blue ink on Pete's hand. "Well, just give me a call, then, if you figure something out. I'm open most of the time."

And with that, he trots off down the hall with a smile and a wave and a "Nice to meet you, Pete!" Pete is left standing there, dumbfounded at what he had just managed to do.

And a little guilty that he was doing this on a dare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, no one even asked for this fic, I'm just forcing it on you all


	2. Let's Get This Party Started

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out better than I thought. Huh. :P
> 
> The chapter title is from Calm Before The Storm. I'm on a lyrics rampage xD
> 
> Pete's texts are in bold, Patrick's are in underlined italics.

**Hi pat its pete**

_Hi, Pete. First things first, don't call me Pat. Ever._

 

And okay, that's something to keep in mind.

 

**Does rick work**

_Meh._

**Trick**

_That's kind of cool._

**Trick it is then**

**So does 330 on friday work for you? We can walk over there tgthr**

_Sure, that sounds good. :)_

**Ok then see u there?**

_Yeah._

_Thanks for asking, by the way. No one seems to want to get coffee with me. Except maybe Tyler and Brendon, but they don't really count. :P_

 

Guilt again. Pete stares at his phone, feeling worse by the second.

 

**No problem u seem rlly nice :)**

_:) Thanks._

 

He sighs and falls back on his unmade bed, staring at the ceiling.

 

"Hey, Wentz!" Someone calls Pete's name from across the cafeteria, and he glances up from the lunch line. He can see the source at his usual table: Gerard and Josh with their fire-engine hair, Dallon with his shock of dark, and Ryan with his hair that always seemed to be either straightened with a fringe or just insane hobbit hair.

Today it was the insane hobbit hair.

Making his way over to his friends, he plops down at the seat they've saved and steals one of Dallon's fries, ignoring his protests.

Josh wastes no time. "Did you ask?"

Pete takes another fry, earning him a kick. "Yes. He said yes."

His friends laugh, sparking a now-familiar twinge of guilt in Pete's stomach.

"So, you gonna blow him off, or--" Gerard is interrupted by Ryan. "Whoa, who said anything about blowing?" Dallon falls off his bench, clutching at his stomach and howling with laughter.

Pete scowls. "No, I'm actually gonna give the little dude a chance. He seems nice enough."

This statement is met with shocked silence. Dallon stops shrieking and sits bolt upright.

"Pete," Josh says slowly, "you _do_ know exactly _who_ you asked out, right?"

"You said they weren't the worst."

"Yes, but we said they are in the _top three_. The _fucking top three_ , man, out of _all_ these groups in here." Josh waves his hand around, gesturing to the rest of the room. "We didn't think you were _actually_ gonna fucking go out on a date with him!"

Dallon has butt-scooted his way back to the table and is clambering onto the bench. "We thought it went unspoken that you were gonna flake!" The look of horror on his face is crystal-clear.

Pete is getting a little scared.

"Look, it's just one date, guys, we're just gonna get Starbucks, it's really not that big of a de--"

Gerard cuts in this time. "What the _fuck do you mean, not that big of a deal?_ It's fucking _Starbucks! People go there_ , Wentz, and if anyone sees you with him, rumors are gonna fucking fly faster than you can say emo! And you had better fucking believe me when I say that when rumors start in this hell, there is _no_ getting them back and _no_ trying to disprove them!" 

He sits back down, pale face flushed, and blows a red strand of hair out of his eyes. 

Pete just sits there, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. 

"I think if you really do wanna go out with Patrick, Pete, you might wanna do it somewhere more obscure. Maybe go to your house or something." Ryan says gently after a pause. "Gee isn't bullshitting you. There really is no telling what could happen if people see you at Starbucks with him." 

Now he was going to have to get Patrick to change their plans, and even then... 

He buries his head in his arms, letting out a long, shaky exhale. "Fuck..." 

Dallon pats him on the back and offers him a fry. 

 

He finds Patrick at his locker again after school. 

"Hey, Pete," Patrick greets him, eyes twinkling. "Ready to go?" 

_ And here is the awkward part.  _

"Um, yeah. But would it be okay if we went to my house instead? Starbucks has a lot of people, and, uh, I'm not that good with crowds." Pete mumbles in a rush. "I have some movies we can watch or something. Or if you like video games," he adds quickly. Patrick blinks, caught slightly off guard by the change of plans. "Oh, yeah, um, okay. That's fine, sounds great!" 

Pete pastes on a smile (his signature dazzling white grin, thank you very much), and they walk to Pete's place, chatting animatedly the whole way. 

 

"Bitch, you are going down!" Pete shrieks at Patrick as Toad zips across the screen in the little blue-and-white car.  They're locked in a heated Mario Kart battle, and Patrick is right on Pete's tail. 

"Oh, I beg to differ, _Peteachu!_ " Patrick snickers, wrenching his cart sharply to the right. 

The next thing Pete knows, a red shell is slamming into Yoshi's green-and-white bike, and he's flying off the track. 

_"FUCK!"_ he howls, leaping to his feet, grabbing the first pillow in sight, and giving Patrick a good whap on the face. _"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"_ Patrick gives a faint squeal, muffled by the pillow on his face, and lunges in Pete's general direction. 

He manages to latch onto Pete's ankle, and Pete stumbles, dropping the pillow and landing with a thump on the beige carpet. Patrick shrieks and pounces, now able to see properly, and they wrestle on Pete's bedroom floor, a flurry of arms and legs and the odd game controller here or there. 

Finally, Pete comes out on top, pinning Patrick to the floor and crowing in victory. Both are sweaty and out of breath, but laughing their asses off. 

 

_All in all, a pretty damn nice first date,_ Pete thinks as they share Oreos in the kitchen ten minutes later.  __

_Maybe this doesn't have to be a complete fucking disaster after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should add some Brendon unicorns in the next chapter.
> 
> I don't even have the slightest clue what the phrase "Brendon unicorns" means. Please, someone enlighten me.


	3. We Can Never Come Back To Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured it out. It's Brendon Uriecorns.

Pete's grabbing binders at his locker when someone taps his shoulder.

He turns and sees Ryan behind him. "Hey, man--" he begins, but not before his friend is grabbing at his shoulders, screaming in his face: _"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO, WENTZ?!"_

Pete is speechless, taken aback by this display. Ryan was normally such a nice guy to him; why was he freaking out like this? "W-what?" he splutters, and Ryan releases him, groaning in frustration and running a hand through his hair, which is straightened today. "God, Pete, we warned you..."

 _Oh_. And _now_ Pete has an idea of what Ryan is on about.

"I-I didn't think th--" Ryan cuts him off. "That's the problem, Pete. _You didn't think_. And now the rumors are flying that _you_ , Pete Wentz, are dating _Patrick fucking Stump_. Because once you are seen at the movies, you cannot be unseen." He slouches against the locker next to Pete's, clearly frazzled. "I've been running around all day doing damage control. And I've made, like, a fucking one-millimeter dent in a mile-wide mess."

"...Sorry?" Pete squeaks after a silence, filled only by the slams of lockers and titter of students on their way to lunch. Ryan laughs humorlessly. "You just don't fucking get it, do you, Pete? Why didn't you stop? Dump the kid? End the dare? You could have cut it off a month ago. Josh warned you three weeks ago. Gee warned you two weeks ago. Dallon warned you last week. And _I_ have been warning you since the start not to do this very thing."

He ends his monologue with another growl of frustration, screwing up his already-messy mop of brown hair.

Pete shuts his locker, resting his forehead against the cool blue metal with a sigh. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I'll cut it off if that's what needs to be done, I'll--"

Ryan barks out another empty laugh. "Oh my _fucking god_ , Wentz, you really do not fucking get it."

Then, in a flash, Ryan's got Pete by the collar, snarling in his face, _"THERE IS NO FUCKING TAKING BACK ANYTHING HERE! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"_ Pete gulps, and Ryan releases him, breathing heavily and backing away, face flushed and fists clenched tightly.

"Crystal," he croaks.

 

Patrick is the one to approach Pete later that afternoon.

"Um, Pete? You got a second?"

Pete turns to look at his kind-of boyfriend. "Sure."

Patrick shuffles his feet, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. "Look, um, I've been hearing the rumors and everything. And I don't--I don't want your reputation ruined because of me."

Pete stops walking and stares at Patrick. "W-what do you mean? Are we... are you saying we should break up?" Tears start to brim in Patrick's wonderful ocean eyes.

"I-I, uh, I think it's for... for the best, Pete."

Pete's world tilts on its side, and upside down, and back again. His heart crashes around with it, and he suddenly feels lightheaded--

"I don't want you to get hurt because of me, Pete, I-I'm so sorry, I wish it didn't have to be like this--"

A single, crystalline teardrop slips down Patrick's pale face.

Pete's universe is shattering into a billion little pieces, and when he speaks, his voice is little more than a high-pitched, hoarse whisper.

"Don't be. Thank you, 'Trick."

And Pete walks away before he can break down. He can hear Patrick behind him, calling him to come back, tears weighing down his melodic voice with the weight of the sky.

But he can never come back. He is floating, numb, empty, lost in outer space, with nowhere to go. He can never come back to earth, to his world, to his 'Trick.

Because it was never really meant to be; an idiotic dare to mess with some worthless feelings. There was never anything there; he was blind and dumb not to know from the start that this would be how it ended.

His world is gone, because his world was _Patrick_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some tissues. Use them wisely.
> 
> And here is some rock-climbing gear for that cliffhanger.


	4. Snitches and Talkers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually been getting good feedback on this, so thank you a bunchies to everyone who reads this fic! Mwa! <3
> 
> Pete's texts are in bold, Gerard's are in underlined italics.

Pete is curled up on his bed amid a nest of blankets. He's tucked into as tight a ball as he can physically manage, trembling with silent sobs, clutching his phone.

Oh, and one of Patrick's t-shirts that happened to be in his room.

Pete isn't even sure how it got there; he vaguely remembers switching shirts with Patrick just to get a kick out of it. The younger boy had changed in Pete's bathroom, unwilling to take off his shirt in front of Pete.

The memory makes Pete ache harder, because maybe if they'd just had more time together...

Suddenly his phone vibrates, and he opens his whiskey eyes wide, staring at the little touchscreen.

It's not from Patrick. Just Gerard, and Pete feels a twinge of disappointment and another wave of heartache. Pushing the tide away, he swipes to open the message.

 

_ Hey man. I heard about Patrick. How you feeling?  _

**Not so good**

_ Sorry, must be rough :/  _

_ We did tell you tho  _

 

A flash of irritation sparks in Pete. Gee probably isn't trying to be condescending, but it's working damn well either way.

 

**Yes u did, idc**

_ He was going to cause you hurt eventually, Pete  _

**Still dont care**

_ It hurts I know, I'm sorry  _

**Why u sorry, u didnt do anything gee**

 

 _Hold on_. It's only been an hour. Patrick is probably in the same state as Pete right now, if not worse: unwilling to talk to anyone and in great need of some tissues. There was no one within earshot when they broke up.

And Pete, even with his past experience, is pretty sure that rumors don't spread this far, this fast.

 

**Wait**

**How did u know about patrick and i breaking up**

 

No reply. Pete is growing more suspicious by the minute, and a feeling of dread is blossoming deep in his stomach. Frowning, he frantically types another text.

 

**Gee, how did you find out**

 

Nothing.

 

**Gerard Arthur Way, you are going to fucking answer me within the next minute or I swear to god I am going to fucking drive over to your house in five minutes and you and I are going to talk IN PERSON.**

_ Oh god you ARE serious  _

_ You actually used punctuation  _

**GERARD FUCKING WAY**

_ OKAY OKAY DONT COME OVER HERE PETE  _

**Give me a fucking answer, Gerard. How did you know?**

 

Another thirty seconds. Pete is literally about to grab his boots and keys and get over there and raise hell with whoever answered Gerard's door, even if it was Mikey, when his phone buzzes again. He snatches it up.

 

_ It wasn't my idea. Let me just get that clear right now, Pete.  _

 

What the fuck?

 

_ It was Josh and Dallon, mostly. We didn't want it to go too far with you and Patrick, because we didn't want the rumors to get around. I guess it was inevitable, but we were trying to put it off for as long as possible. We should have known you wouldn't break it off, though.    _

 

Pete isn't liking this one bit.

 

**What happened?**

_ Josh and Dallon took matters into their own hands. They decided to blackmail Patrick into breaking up with you: do it by the end of the day, or else. Ryan and I tried to talk them out of it, I swear, but they wouldn't take no for an answer, and they said that if I didn't tell Patrick to do it, a rumor would get around about Ry and me by the next day. And as much as I didn't want to do this, even if it meant an awful rumor, I didn't want it to happen to Ry, so I agreed to it.  _

 

Pete can hardly think. He's trembling, gripping his phone so hard that the rubber of the case squeaks against his sweaty palm.

 

_ I put a note in Patrick's locker saying that if he didn't break it off with you by the end of the day, someone was gonna get hurt. Josh told me what to write, and I did it. I tried to tell them they were taking this way too far, that there were other ways to help, but they wouldn't listen.  _

**What about Ryan?**

_They made him promise to keep quiet, and then they had him go up to you after school and scream at you that your relationship with Patrick had gone too far. He did it for the same reasons I did._

 

Pete drifts back to Ryan's outburst earlier that afternoon. Now that he really thought about it, something had seemed off (other than the abrupt change in Ryan's gentle nature): the way Ryan's eyes kept darting around, like he was afraid of something, the way his movements seemed a little forced, as though he was acting in a play, but hadn't rehearsed quite enough. And the strange look in his eyes. Almost as though...

Pete groaned, rubbing his face.

Almost as though he was trying to convey a silent message to Pete, hidden beneath the angry, frazzled attitude.

Pete was frozen, wide eyes fixated on the screen.

 

_ I'm so sorry, Pete. Ry and I wouldn't have done it under any other circumstances, I swear to you. What you and Pat had was something special, and we fucked that something up so bad for you guys. I'm so sorry. And I understand if you don't forgive Ryan and me for this. _

 

 

**Don't call him Pat.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN-DUN-joshDUN
> 
> HAHAHA THAT WAS AWFUL


	5. I Know This Hurts (It Wasn't Meant To)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter, sorry. I'm tired.
> 
> Bold is Patrick, underlined is Tyler and Brendon, underlined italics is Pete.

Patrick barely makes it home.

He only just gets up the stairs and through his bedroom door before he's slamming it shut and sinking to the carpet, shoulders shaking and tears streaming down his face.

God, he was so horrible; how could he do this to Pete? Cut it off so bluntly, so fast?

 _Oh. Right_.

Patrick unclenches his left fist, staring through tear-blurred eyes at the crumpled, sweaty piece of paper held there. Swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand (he took off his glasses long ago), he gazes down at the note, recalling the events of earlier.

 

The locker door opens, and a folded-up note falls out. Frowning, Patrick bends to pick it up and read it.

 

_Cut it off with him._

_If you haven't done it by the end of the day, someone is going to get hurt._

_You wouldn't want that, would you?_

 

Bile rises in his throat at the horrible words. Deep down, he knew that "someone" meant Pete. And he didn't want "someone" to get hurt.

Patrick knew firsthand how cruel rumors at this school could be. The words, the jeers, the looks, they would eat away at you like acid, a slow-acting poison, lasting for months on end. And still, they never completely healed, still, they didn't ever completely fade. There were always some left through the years.

He can't let Pete to go through the same pain he does.

 

The same sickening feels rises in Patrick again, and he fumbles for his phone, hiccuping slightly as he opens a group text.

 

**Can you guys come over**

 

A minute later:

 

Beebo: sure man wassup 

**Just please come over, i'll tell you when you get here**

Tiller Jose: u okay fren?

**No**

 

The doorbell rings ten minutes later, and Patrick trudges downstairs to answer it. Tyler and Brendon stand there, poking at each other. Brendon has his free hand raised to press the doorbell again, the ADHD guy he is. They freeze when they see Patrick. He knows he must look damn awful, his honey-brown hair a mess and his face and eyes red and puffy.

"Oh my god." Tyler is the first to speak. "Patrick, what happened?"

"Come inside," he mumbles, avoiding their concerned, questioning gazes and shuffling away from the door.

 

Half an hour has passed by the time Patrick manages to get out the whole story, only breaking down into sobs one-and-a-half times.

A substantial accomplishment, if he does say so himself.

"That's awful," Brendon whispers, wrapping him in a hug. Tyler awkwardly pats him on the back. They're interrupted by the buzzing of Patrick's phone. He looks down at it, sniffling as Brendon pulls away.

 

_ BF<3: Can I come over? _

 

Patrick freezes. Pete wants to come over? Also: why is he suddenly using impeccable grammar and punctuation? Very un-Pete-like. He looks helplessly at his friends. Brendon shrugs. Tyler frowns. "Why?"

"I don't know."

"Ask him."

 

**Why?**

_I need to talk to you. Please._

**Okay. Brendon and Tyler are here, though.**

_ That's okay. They can hear this.  _

 

Tyler and Brendon exchange glances. Patrick groans and falls back into the pillows. "What am I gonna do? I-I thought he would hate me or just be too sad to do much or--God, I d-don't even know. I feel awful."

"Well, obviously he really wants to talk. And it can't be that bad; otherwise he would have wanted us to leave or he just wouldn't have still wanted to come over, right?" Brendon reasons in a rush of words. Logical, rational Brendon is so absurd that Patrick almost wants to laugh.

Almost.

He stares at the cream ceiling. "I don't know. That's the thing; you never know with Pete. Maybe that's why I like him so much. Or maybe I'm just deceiving myself."

They sit in silence, broken only by Patrick's slight sniffles and the occasional tear, until the doorbell rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIFE IS UP HERE BUT YOU COMMENT BELOW WHEN THE COMMENTS WILL ALWAYS BECOME COMMON MOTIVATION
> 
> Yeah anyways that got stuck in my head sorry.  
> But the comments below.
> 
> Hint hint  
> Cough cough  
> Sneeze sneeze
> 
> I'm Not Sick (I Promise)


	6. Daredevil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in some time! I'm juggling chapters from two or three separate fica and I've been really busy lately. Plus I only have time to write at night, and no matter how much it apparently doesn't matter, I apparently need sleep. :P  
> All excuses aside, please enjoy. Ily guys :)

The door opens and Pete is greeted by Tyler's face, rather than Patrick's.

"Hey, man," Tyler greets him. Pete hasn't met Tyler for real, but he seems pretty friendly (even under the current circumstances). "Hey," Pete replies, shuffling nervously. "You probably know why I'm here, but can I talk to Patrick?" The boy opens the door wider, ushering him inside. "Yeah, of course."

Pete steps into the house, kicking off his boots and noticing, irrationally, as Tyler leads him up the stairs, that the other boy is almost half a foot taller than him.

And, well, now Pete feels even smaller. Why does he have to be so fucking short?

They reach Patrick's room and enter. Patrick is curled up on the unmade bed amid a blanket nest of sorts, and Brendon is lounging on the floor, trying to coerce Patrick into smiling. And dear god, if Pete thought his own jokes were bad, then Brendon's are the epitome of awful wisecracks.

Then Brendon and Tyler start looking at him strangely, and Pete realizes he's been pouting the whole way up the stairs.

_Curse his diminuitive height._

Settling his face back into its normal expression (admittedly with some difficulty), Pete sits on the edge of the bed and pokes gently at Patrick's ankle. "Hey, dude," he says quietly, and Patrick looks up at him. His perpetually bright eyes are dull and red-rimmed, and dried tear tracks cut down his pink cheeks. The rusty-brown hair is sticking straight up in the back, and his Television t-shirt is rumpled.

"I thought--I thought you would h-hate me," Patrick whispers after a moment, his voice a raspy croak instead of the golden melody Pete adores. "No," Pete answers, reaching for Patrick's hand and squeezing it gently. "I could never do that, no matter how hard I might try."

The younger boy sits up, a fresh tear trickling down his cheek. "Do you mean that, Pete? You honestly mean that?"

"Yes, 'Trick, I'm pretty damn certain." They sit like that, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes until Tyler coughs pointedly and says, "Uh, Beebo and I are gonna, um, go watch TV while you guys sort this out. Right, Beebo?" Brendon looks startled. "Huh?"

Tyler glares daggers at him. "We are gonna go watch TV. Right, Brendon?"

"But I wanna stay and watch!" Brendon whines, and Pete wants to laugh; his childlike behavior is so comical. Tyler huffs out a sigh or exasperation and yanks Brendon out of Patrick's bedroom. The dark-haired boy's protests are clearly audible, even as he's pulled downstairs. Pete smiles to himself and turns his attention back to Patrick.

"I know what happened, Patrick."

Patrick jumps. "W-what? Who told you?"

"Gerard. Josh and Dallon blackmailed him and Ryan into it. I guess it wasn't really their faults, but still..." Pete falls silent.

After a long pause, Patrick speaks tentatively. "So... if you want to pick up where we left off, no one... no one has to know. Not even Tyler and Brendon."

Pete's head shoots up so fast that for a moment, he thinks he may have whiplash. "You mean..."

Patrick nods slowly. "We could say we agreed to be just friends."

"Our secret...?"

"Our secret only."

Pete drags his gaze up to meet Patrick's eyes, uncertain. "We don't have to do this. If we get caught..."

"...Then Dun and Weekes have their little bitch fits, spread some stupid rumors, so what? It doesn't matter to me. But this is your decision. I won't try to make it for you."

Pete stays quiet for a long minute, staring at their entwined fingers. Then he speaks, barely audible.

"I've always been a sort of daredevil."

"Is that a yes?"

"Hell yes."

Patrick smiles softly. "Good."

Then he wraps his arms around Pete's neck and pulls him in for a kiss, and _oh, dear lord_.

The world dissolves around him as the initial shock fades, and he kisses back. Patrick's lips are so soft and warm; Pete wants to taste the salt from his tears and the sweetness of Patrick for the rest of his life. Their kiss is chaste and rather short; they separate a few moments later.

Whiskey lock with ocean until Patrick glances down, slightly embarrassed. "Um, sorry..." he mumbles, "I hope--I hope that was okay..."  And Pete kisses him again to shut him up. "Are you fucking kidding? That was..." he murmurs against Patrick's lips, at a sudden loss for words. Patrick breaks away and smiles shyly. "Great? Wonderful? Magical?"

A soft laugh escapes Pete. "Something like that, yeah." He wraps his arms around Patrick's small frame, hugging him as they fall back onto his bed. Normally, this thought would spark a little something in Pete's jeans, but it's not like that now: just cuddling, comfort, weightlessness, bliss.

Pete never wants this moment to end.

 _I could get used to this_ , he thinks as Patrick's breathing grows deep and slow, his eyelids falling shut and his hand going limp in Pete's.

Then darkness and exhaustion overtake him and he drifts away, a tiny raft in a sea of Patrick Stump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Wentzdays we wear pete
> 
> HAHAHA GET IT?
> 
> No?
> 
> Okay.
> 
> I didn't think so.
> 
> Never mind.


	7. Fake You Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update took so long, but I've been really busy since school started. And kind of lazy, I'll admit.

Pete is rudely awakened by someone shrieking. And good lord, did that someone have some fucking _lungs_.

"What the hell?" he mutters, sitting up and blinking rapidly, momentarily disoriented. Then he remembers that he's at Patrick's house. In Patrick's bed. Sleeping. More specifically, curled up with Patrick, sleeping.

He thinks he might know why the person is so freaked out.

As the world shifts into focus, Pete realizes Brendon is the one raising hell. "Tyler!" the boy is yelling. " Get the fuck up here, Tyler!" Pete glares at him, carefully untangling his legs from Patrick's (how did that happen?) and sitting up. Patrick stirs beside him and begins to blink slowly. Pete mindlessly runs a hand through his soft rust-colored hair, soothing him.

Tyler bursts into the room, out of breath and slightly flushed from leaping up the stairs. He takes in the scene before him, then turns and lightly socks Brendon in the arm. "Jesus, man, I thought someone was wrong. Like, someone had a seizure or something." Brendon smirks suggestively. "Or something else involving a lot of yelling." He barely dodges the hat Pete throws at him.

Patrick is pretty much awake now, thanks to Brendon's raucous screaming. "The hell, Beebo?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. Pete refuses to acknowledge how adorable that looks. Brendon merely snickers and grabs a confused Tyler's wrist, pulling him out of the bedroom. "Come on, Ty, let's leave these two to their...activities." Patrick blushes tomato red and begins stuttering incoherently.

Pete glowers after him as the door shuts, and Patrick takes his hand. "Don't mind him; he's just a goofball. And kind of a perv." This elicits a smile from Pete, and he leans in to kiss his boyfriend.

"You're cute when you're flustered, you know that?" He feels Patrick grin shyly against his lips and a wave of happiness overwhelms Pete, like warm sunshine after an ice storm.

 

The next day at noon, Pete realizes he's being faced with an urgent dilemma: where to sit at lunch.

He can't very well sit with Patrick if they want to keep their renewed relationship a secret. On the other hand, he sure as hell isn't about to sit with his friends after what had happened.

And damn, another problem: friends. Pete wouldn't call Josh and Dallon his friends, he's certain of that. He isn't sure whether he wants to go back to Gerard and Ryan, though, and decides that's another issue for another day. _Priorities_. Pete doesn't know who to hang out with now. He doesn't particularly want to be _that kid_ sitting alone. The Lonely Introvert Who Has No Friends.

Huffing in frustration and slamming his locker shut, Pete starts down the hallway towards the cafeteria. Maybe he could sit with Patrick. It would be entertaining as hell to see the looks on his ex-friends' faces. But they'd agreed to keep this a secret, even with Patrick's "fuck it, who cares if they find out" attitude.

Pete had managed to earn reputations at his previous schools, no matter how hard he tried to keep the cool front, and he desperately wanted this time to be different.

He hesitates at the entrance to the cafeteria. He would decide what to do before going in, or else he risks standing awkwardly in the middle of the room trying to figure himself out. Weighing his options, he finally decides, _fuck it, I'll sit with my old group_. He can pretend he doesn't know what had happened behind the scenes of the breakup. He smiles to himself.

_This is gonna be fun._

First, though, he scribbles the same thing on two Post-It notes: one for Ryan, one for Gerard.

 

_I know what happened. Pretend I don't, just go along with it._

 

Composing himself, Pete pushes into the crowded room and enters the lunch line.

 

Ten minutes later, he sets his tray down at his old table, ignoring the shocked expressions Gerard and Ryan wore at his arrival. "Hey, buddy," Dallon greets him with a grin. Pete forces himself to return the gesture, dishing out his signature Pete Wentz smile.

Under the table, he shoves the notes into Gerard's hand and nudges them towards Ryan. The red-haired boy catches on (bless his emo heart) and passes one to the other recipient. Dallon and Josh don't seem to notice, thank god.

Josh leans forward, over the table. "Hey, man, I heard about your split with Stump. You okay?" Pete's fists clench beneath the table at the fake-sympathy display Dun is putting on, but he grits out, "Yeah, thanks. It's been rough, though." Josh nods sympathetically. "I was sorry to hear about it, really. It's probably for the best, though."

And, _fuck_ , it takes all of Pete's willpower not to explode and start screaming at the lying asshole right there.

Ryan and Gerard seem to have read the notes, which relieves Pete. One less damn thing to worry about, replaced by another: for how long can he keep up this charade? Glancing discreetly over to Patrick's table, he sees his boyfriend looking confused.

 _What's going on?_ Patrick mouths.

 _I'll explain later,_ Pete replies wordlessly, and Patrick nods, returning to his pizza.

 

This is going to be a long day.


End file.
